


Drinks & Dessert

by afteriwake



Series: WIP Big Bang Accomplishments [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cookies, Cooking, Drinking & Talking, Drunk Molly, Drunk Mycroft, Drunk Sex, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Kissing, F/M, Morning After, Not A Mistake, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-01-08 16:52:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12258306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: After yet another bad date, Molly comes home to find Mycroft waiting for her in her darkened sitting room with a bottle of expensive scotch whiskey. After she suggests a baking spree and as the bottle grows more empty, things that neither of them expected to happen take place...for better or for worse.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm kind of going through my Tumblr inbox looking for prompts that inspire me and this one from an anonymous user (" _Ooo you are such a talented writer I would be so over the moon if you did a mollcroft where they got drunk together_ ") caught my eye this morning. Hopefully it will just stay at the three parts so I can finish it quickly...

She was never completely surprised to see Mycroft Holmes in her sitting room these days. Most people believed Sherlock was dead, but the two of them knew the truth, that he was alive and well and on a mission to rid the world of as much of Moriarty's influence as he could. It was a terrible burden of a secret, they both realized that, and so the unplanned visits from Mycroft were almost expected these days.

What was not expected, however, was to find Mycroft in the room as it was dark, the moonlight the only light in the room, and a bottle of expensive scotch whiskey that she knew didn’t belong to her next to him.

She’d gone on another dead end date with a bloke who had only really wanted to get in her knickers, but he wasn’t even worth a goodnight kiss. Typical of her luck, really. Or maybe her taste. Her crush on Sherlock had faded long before his fall, she’d realized a few months after he was gone, and it was time to put herself out there in the world again. She couldn’t always fall for sociopaths or psychopaths, after all. But it turned out the third type of men she was attracted to were wankers.

It was rather a huge letdown.

Mycroft was honestly the only decent man in her life that wasn’t already married or seeing someone else. At least she _thought_ he wasn’t. There was the matter of the ring he wore, but he never said anything to indicate it was a wedding or engagement ring. And long ago, the topic of their conversations had been less about his brother and more about themselves. If he was in a relationship with someone, she was sure she would know by now.

She set her handbag on the table near the chair closest to the foyer and looked at him. “Did something happen?” she asked softly, not turning on the light on the same table.

She saw him shake his head. “I just thought you would want a drink and a friendly ear after...the date.”

She had to smile at that and she dropped into the chair, holding her hand out for the glass she knew he would give her. After a moment spent pouring a hefty measure of the scotch whiskey into a glass, he handed it to her and she took a sip. “My taste in men is abominable. Your brother, Moriarty, the blokes now...” 

“I could have told you he was a womanizer,” Mycroft said, having a sip from the glass he’d poured from himself.

“Why didn’t you?” she asked, tilting her head.

“It’s not my place to meddle in your personal affairs, at least any more than I normally do.”

“This time I wish you had. He took us to a micro food restaurant so I didn’t even have a proper meal. And the glass of wine just tasted like grape juice.”

“Abominable,” Mycroft said. “I knew he was a prat but you deserve better.”

She had another sip of the drink and then smiled at him. “Let’s bake.”

“What?” he asked, surprised.

“Like I don’t know you have a barren refrigerator at home and you count all your calories before you come see me so you can have the chocolate dipped biscuits I make every week just for you,” she said.

“You are astoundingly perceptive,” he murmured.

“Years spent around your brother will do that to a person. But also, he told me the bit about your kitchen and your fondness for baked goods.” She stood up, glass in hand. “Well, come on. Bring the whiskey and follow me into the kitchen. Tonight we’re going to blow our diets.”

A small smile etched itself on his face as he stood, glass in one hand and bottle in the other before the two of them left the darkened sitting room to head deeper into her home to the kitchen. She wasn’t quite sure where this evening with Mycroft was heading, but she rather thought it was off to a better start than her date had been.


	2. Chapter 2

She looked at her store of supplies needed for baking. She was a rather good baker, so she always made sure she had enough on hand to make a few batches of biscuits or cakes or cobblers of all sorts. Just so she could make whatever she might be in the mood for. She took her butter out of the refrigerator to let it get to room temperature and began pulling out chocolate and flour. “So...chocolate dipped biscuits are a must tonight. What else are you in the mood for?”

Mycroft moved into her blue-tiled kitchen and went to her glasses. He had been in there more times than he probably would have liked, considering his constant dieting, and he knew its layout well. They already had glasses but the ones he was reaching for was better. A man after her own heart, apparently. “Millionaire bars?” he suggested.

“That we can do,” she said. “But if we’re going to drink that entire bottle, which I think sounds like a very good plan, we should have dinner as well. I can make curry, a simple beef stew, chicken parmigiana...”

“It has been so long since I’ve had chicken parmigiana,” Mycroft said.

“Then that’s what we’ll have tonight. I have breaded thin cut breasts, so it’ll be a snap.” She set the ingredients she’d gathered on the counter. “When you can, cheat.”

“Though only when appropriate,” Mycroft said, pulling down two larger glasses and transferring the contents of their glasses to the larger ones before adding more. He leaned elegantly against the kitchen worktop, sipping from his glass. “For example, not in romantic relationships.”

“Absolutely,” Molly agreed. “And not at work, for the most part.”

“At my job, I can rarely afford to cheat,” he said. “The same for you, I suppose.”

“I have little cheats,” she admitted. “Mostly for paperwork.”

“That, I suppose, is acceptable.” He had some more of his drink. “So long as you don’t cut corners performing an autopsy.”

She giggled softly. “It’s not as though I’m a surgeon, really,” she said.

“But you are skilled with a scalpel,” Mycroft said, gesturing to her with his glass. “I would trust you to perform life-saving surgery on me.”

“Well, I’m flattered,” Molly said, flushing slightly. “I would trust you to save my arse if I was involved in an international incident.”

“I’m only a minor government official,” Mycroft protested.

“That’s utter tripe and you know it,” Molly said, picking up her glass and posting it in his direction. “You have more power in your pinkie’s fingernail than the Prime Minister.”

Mycroft smiled but stayed silent, taking another sip of his drink. Molly shook her head and began setting up the chicken parmigiana. When she was done she put the chicken cutlets in the oven to cook before she started the pasta. She could feel Mycroft watching her as she moved easily around her kitchen, occasionally pausing for a sip of her drink. By the time the water was set to boil she’d finished half of her new larger glass while Mycroft was nearly done. “I think you need more,” Mycroft said.

“I need to catch up, first,” she said. She picked up her glass and tilted her head back to take a long swallow. “I think I might regret already drinking so much on an empty stomach.”

“Do you have any tidbits we could snack on while we wait?” Mycroft asked.

Molly went to one of her cabinets, standing near him, and reached up to pull out a few tins. “I have a tin of Walkers Shortbread Chocolate Assortment and some Churchill’s Chocolate Chunk and Hazelnut biscuits left.” She shook the blue tin with pink butterflies on it. “Yes, I have a few. But they’re my favourites so I only share them with people I like.”

“And do you like me?” he asked.

“I do,” Molly said, suddenly realizing how close they were.

“Then you’ll share?” he said, leaning in.

“I suppose,” she said, her breath catching slightly.

Mycroft plucked the tin out of her hand and opened it before pulling away. “Thank you.”

“Don’t eat them all!” she said, shaking her head. What on earth had just happened? Why was she feeling like there had been a moment where there could have been...more? She shook her head again and backed up a bit. No, this was Mycroft Holmes. Sherlock’s brother. Who could, possibly, be married. Nothing should happen.

So why was that such a depressing thought?


	3. Chapter 3

Molly refilled her glass and nibbled on some of her favourite biscuits that Mycroft made sure to share. He was polite, at least, that when she had said it was her favourite he made sure she got some. But she dwelt on the momentary “what might have been” feeling that had gone through her when he’d leaned in towards her.

She’d wanted him to kiss her.

She’d wanted _Mycroft bloody Holmes_ to snog her in her kitchen.

She stayed silent as she nibbled on her biscuit, so long that Mycroft frowned. “Have I done something wrong?”

She shook her head, her eyes wide. “No! No, I was just...thinking.”

“About what?” he said, setting his glass down.

“Things,” she said. Then she sighed. “I thought you were going to kiss me a little while ago.”

“I hadn’t planned to do so,” Mycroft said.

“I know,” she said glumly.

“Though it doesn’t strike me as such a bad idea,” he added thoughtfully.

She was stunned at his addition. “Pardon?”

“I just didn’t think you had any interest in me,” Mycroft said, looking down. “I’m not as much of a catch as most.”

“You’re just lovely,” Molly blurted out. Mycroft’s head snapped up, and the look in his eyes, a look of guarded hope, made her want to tell him everything she thought. She gripped her glass and swallowed the last of the contents, hoping it would give her the courage she needed. “You _are_ lovely. And smart. And attractive. And you have a nice arse.”

Mycroft blinked, and she could see he was turning a bit red. “You’re absolutely lovely too. And talented, and as smart as...well, my brother, I suppose.”

“I don’t exactly take that as a compliment,” Molly said. “He never noticed me. Not that way.”

Mycroft chuckled. “He could be blind, yes.”

“But not you,” she said.

“No, I suppose not. Though he would have acted on it if he wasn’t idiotic. It took liquid courage for me to say something.”

“But you did, and that’s what’s important.” She smiled over at him and moved closer. “So what do we want to do?”

“I suppose I could kiss you,” he said.

“Just answer one question first,” she said. “The ring you wear...”

“Belonged to my Uncle Rudy,” he said. “It reminds me of family duties I have, to protect...others.” He reached over for her, his touch tentative as he placed his hands on her hips, slowly sliding them to the small of her back as she stepped closer. “But they are not filling my thoughts right now. My duties. For once, I want to focus on something...for myself.”

Molly smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck, deciding to kiss him instead of waiting for him to kiss her. She pressed her lips softly against his, and while it took a moment he responded in kind, keeping the kiss gentle and slightly tentative. She let it continue until he pulled away, and then she looked up at him again. “Well?” she asked, a sparkle in her eyes.

“I think I would like to do that again,” he murmured before leaning in and kissing her more passionately. It was the second kiss that convinced her that dinner and dessert might have to wait. Maybe, if she was lucky, they’d wait until the morning...or later.


	4. Chapter 4

She woke up with a start. “The oven!”

After a moment a hand snaked around her and pulled her back to the bed and against a warm body. “It’s been off for hours,” Mycroft murmured before nestling his nose in the crook of her neck.

She relaxed and grinned as it all hit her. Last night...glasses of expensive liquor, confessions, kisses... _lots_ of kisses...and she was sure she would find a trail of clothes leading from the kitchen to her bedroom.

And then...for a man who willfully chose to abstain from shagging, Mycroft was _remarkably_ skilled. Even better than her best of lovers. He had paid attention to her as though he was savoring the moment because it would never happen again. Though if she had her way it would most definitely happen again, and preferably as often as possible.

He pressed a kiss to her pulse point and she sighed happily. It looked as though he might be up to another round and really, so was she. She moved so that she was straddling him, and it was very obvious he was, indeed, ready for a morning delight. She leaned over and her hair fell around his face as his hands moved on her. “You don’t regret last night?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Not in the slightest,” she said, smiling at him. “It was...magnificent.”

“Yes, it was,” he said, letting his thumbs trace shapes above her hipbones. “I suppose you want to try again? I can do better, I suppose.

She leaned in and kissed him deeply, grinning against his lips. “I think I would like to see you try and top yourself.”

“You’re doing a fine job being on top,” he said with a smirk.

She laughed and then leaned in again, pressing a kiss to his neck. “I can do all sorts of things in this position.”

“Can you?”

“Would you like me to show you?” she asked archly.

“I think I would enjoy that very much,” he said. With that encouragement, she began kissing her way lower, in her mind thinking that there was no way anything could be better than the night before...but if he wanted to try, again and again and again, she would very happily oblige.


End file.
